


Young Volcanoes

by cheerfulmorgue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Faked Suicide, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14032614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheerfulmorgue/pseuds/cheerfulmorgue
Summary: "What now?" She asked, doe eyes blinking at him. Light brown brows raised as she handed him a cuppa. She had locked to mortuary door, which was unusual for her, but absolutely necessary.Sherlock looked down at his look-alike corpse. He furrowed his brows. "Honestly? ... I've no idea."





	Young Volcanoes

**He was completely ruined:**  Him, his life, everything. He was dead, but oh so very alive. He was stuck, though; lost, unsure of what to do. He had already done the worst part, which was easy, but now he was stuck at the best part, which was way more difficult than he had imagined just hours before.

She would help him, though. She had promised she would. Stronger than he formerly believed, she was ready to be of assistance in any way she could. She had helped him during the worst and he didn't realize how much he appreciated her.

"What now?" She asked, doe eyes blinking at him. Light brown brows raised as she handed him a cuppa. She had locked to mortuary door, which was unusual for her, but absolutely necessary.

Sherlock looked down at his look-alike corpse. He furrowed his brows. "Honestly? ... I've no idea."

She sighed and leaned against a nearby wall, watching as he stared down at the body. "Sherlock," she said, "I want to help you, I truly do, but I don't know how I can."

He looked back at her. "Molly, you've done enough."

She stepped forward. "But I want to do more!" She walked closer to him and rested a hand on the autopsy table. "You've got a long way to go from here, dismantling the Moriarty network, protecting London while you're known to be dead.... You need all the help you can get, but right now, Mycroft and I are the only help you can get. Even your Homeless Network has to lay low for now."

He sighed. "I know, I know. I've just ... I've got to think. There's too much going on. I need to quiet down my Mind Palace." He took a drink from the mug, then stared into it as the dark liquid swirled around and around.

Molly thought for a moment, looking down at the grey cement floors. "Stay with me." Sherlock looked up at her and she continued. "Just for a few nights; wait for things to settle down a bit. It'll be easier to figure things out once everything's gone quiet."

"This could take years, Molly," he said, shaking his head, "I don't have time to play sleepover."

"You aren't playing sleepover." Molly rolled her eyes. "You're settling down and then going on your way. I'll be able to help you easier and you'll be able to actually think." He looked unsure and Molly cocked her head slight. "Please?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Fine," he said, "but I'm not staying for long. I have to get started as soon as possible."

"I know, I know." Molly sighed. Lots of sighing in this conversation. "I just ... I just want to help, you know."

He sat the mug on the table next to the corpse, not seeming to mind it, and stepped one step closer to her. "I understand. ... Thank you." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Her eyes closed and she leaned into the kiss, keeping another sigh from escaping her lips. 

When his lips left her cheek, he watched her for a second as she opened her eyes again and gave him a small nod. He glanced at her thin lips for a second, where she bit her bottom lip, nervous. Classic Molly. Not unusual.

"Shall we go, then?" she asked.

He nodded. "Might as well."

They managed to sneak out of the hospital, Sherlock wearing a dark blue hoodie that Molly had bought him to cover his shirt, which was streaked in crimson fake blood and his hair, which was sticky with the same substance. He didn't walk next to Molly, but followed close behind so he didn't draw attention to her.

Outside the hospital, a street clean up crew cleaned up the mess from the fall, and the street was almost deserted, aside from an occasional cab. John Watson was no longer around, having been sent home several hours before. There were a couple of members from Sherlock's Homeless Network standing across the street, a man and woman. The man nodded to Sherlock, and he nodded back. The two walked off. Sherlock and Molly caught a cab together. Molly told the cabbie her address and handed him the fare. He nodded and they set off.

It was a twenty minute ride, and neither the pathologist nor the detective said a single word on the entire trip. Molly had a feeling that they looked guilty of something, though they were. A faked suicide that is to shock England? Definitely guilty, no doubt about it, but it was definitely for the better.

When they arrived at Molly's flat, she tipped the cabbie and the two got out. She hurried to the door and unlocked it, gesturing inside once she got the door open. Sherlock hurried in and Molly shut the door behind him. She led him to the door to her flat and let herself and the detective in, locking the door once they were in. It wasn't in the best condition for company, but it would be fine if he didn't stay for long, which wasn't the plan.

She watched as he looked around, feeling slightly uncomfortable with him in her private space. She wasn't sure why, but him being there disturbed her. She'd have to get use to it, though. She took off her coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

"Make yourself at home." 

 


End file.
